


We keep behind closed doors

by CarmenOnMonday



Series: Secret Love Song [2]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Closeted Character, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, Injury, Late Night Conversations, M/M, they're idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 18:04:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20139712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmenOnMonday/pseuds/CarmenOnMonday
Summary: "You’re scaring me,” Dele confessed, and it sounded even more vulnerable in this small voice of his. He couldn’t help sounding like that, when he was so tired, so exhausted, so done after yesterday’s revelation and today’s meetings.He wanted not to be a liability for once.__________Dele's injured, again, and Eric plays a martyr, again.





	We keep behind closed doors

**Author's Note:**

> this is so shitty! and I don't know why I'm even posting it, but here we go

He could hear the sound of steps echoing in the living room and getting closer and closer to him, followed by the shadow appearing on the wooden parquet. Eric stopped in the doorway leading to the terrace without any word, and Dele was glad for it; even the feeling of his gaze on Dele’s back was enough to make him slightly uneasy.

Bundled up in the blanket which didn’t stop him from shivering, Dele sat on the chair, surrounded by the darkness. He had his leg stretched on the chair in front, the sight he grew too familiar to in the past few months.

The evening was crisp, slightly chilly, and the air felt good burning his lungs on the way in. Dele let his breath out and idly observed the steam escaping his mouth. It looked almost as if he was smoking.

He wished he could.

One more shiver travelled through his body at the thought of Poch’s reaction if he ever got caught smoking. It would surely be the end of him; after the recent incident, it would be the last straw. But on the other hand, it wouldn’t even be that much of a downgrade from the place he was in right now. The footballer who kept falling apart after playing one match, not even full-time.

Dele huffed and hid his face in the blanket.

The chair next to him moved as Eric dropped heavily on it.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Dele mumbled into the blanket with his eyes still closed.

He was surprised when no answer followed. He took one, two, three measured breaths waiting for the ball to drop, but it never came. The only sound was still of grasshoppers in the grass stretched in front of them.

Slowly, he raised his head, blinking his bleary eyes. He turned to look at Eric and found him seemingly lost in thought; his forehead frowned and his lip between his teeth. He stared into the distance, serious and unmoving.

Dele’s stomach clenched at the sight.

“Eric?” he whispered because he couldn’t help himself. Suddenly, he was no longer overwhelmed by his own personal tragedy. Suddenly, the thought that there was something more wrong - _why wouldn't it, of course, of-fucking-course, what now, what again, why_ \- managed to cut through the haze he was in since leaving doctor’s office.

He felt like he would get sick soon, his heart beating far too fast in his chest.

Eric finally turned to him, and his eyes were red; he looked like he wanted to say something far too serious compared to their typical banter.

Dele was still trembling, but now not only because of the heavy thought of not being good enough to play football professionally weighing down on his shoulders.

Eric hummed in question, like only now he broke out of his thoughts.

“You’re scaring me,” Dele whispered, and it sounded even more vulnerable in this small voice of his. He couldn’t help sounding like that, when he was so tired, so exhausted, so done after yesterday’s revelation and today’s meetings.

He just wanted it to be over, he just wanted not to be a liability for once.

He just wanted the continuous spiral of misfortunes to end but-

“I’m sorry, Delboy,” Eric said under his breath, like he was chocking on those words.

It was like a knife pushed into his body; he almost jumped in surprise. “What?!”

Visions of Eric leaving to play somewhere else appeared in front of his eyes, visions of Eric deciding to move back into his old house, visions of Eric with some pretty girl, and Dele’s heart travelled to his throat, ready to escape his chest.

Eric moved awkwardly, in search of a better position on the chair, and Dele couldn’t stop staring at him, waiting for the confession.

“Did you hear what Poch said in his interview after the match? About your injury?”

Dele nodded; he listened to it while laying down on the physio chair, going through the same exercises yet again. “I can’t believe this one time they managed to catch me drunk will be brought up every freaki-“

Eric shook his head, making him stop.

“I don’t think Poch was talking about the incident.”

“Then what was he talking about? _Dele needs to listen to his body..._ I listen, it just won’t fucking talk to me!” It would sound like a joke, if not for the bitter tone and taste it left in his mouth.

Eric crossed his arms, and looked into the distance again, tense and protective, or maybe just trying to keep himself warm.

Dele had layers and layers on himself, and still kept shaking; Eric sat there with just a t-shirt on, careless even after his recent surgery.

“I think what he means is... It’s all mental. My appendicitis, that’s purely physical, the second surgery as well, but mysterious problems with muscles that go on and on-“

Normally, it would make him snap, but this time, Dele felt genuinely hurt and wasn’t sure if he could take more of it. “So you’re saying I imagined my injuries? I would- I would give anything to be healthy and to just play and you-“

“Shit, no!” Eric jumped in. “It’s real. It’s so fucking real because you’re _exhausted_, you’re at the end of your capability. But you didn’t even play all that much right? So yes, maybe it’s some medical issue, some tendency to catch a hamstring injury, but why haven’t they detect the source yet? Or maybe- Remember what Poch said about sorting our family life before we come to the training or else we’ll never be able to fully focus on football?”

Something heavy dropped in Dele’s stomach.

“Are you really trying to bring my family into this?” Dele shook his head in exasperation. “Eric, please, I can’t do this right now, not with my career falling apart in front of my eyes. Do we really _need to_ do this now? Did you wake up in the morning deciding to discuss my childhood trauma? No time like today? Goddammit.” Dele babbled hysterically, at the verge of some dramatic gesture – maybe he should just stand up and leave; maybe he should start yelling at how unfair Eric was being; maybe he should finally stop trying to hold the tears back.

But he couldn’t do either, because he was too surprised at Eric treating him like this. He expected a relief, some comfort offered after so many weeks apart, after how he took care of Eric recently... Their relationship was never a transaction, it wasn’t about giving exactly the same amount of love and care you received, but it certainly wasn’t about finding the most painful spots and pressing them either.

Dele closed his eyes again, tempted to pretend it wasn’t happening; he just wanted to hide out there, in the safety of their house, wanted to be protected by Eric’s hoodie and warm blanket, from the world and his thoughts. And yet here he was, shaking like a leaf, feeling attacked by a person he trusted the most, when every touch felt like a another beating he was forced to take.

“I don’t mean your family. I mean ours. Us.” Eric finally explained, unsurely, as always when he tried to talk about their feelings.

“But there’s nothing to sort here then? We’re- we’re happy? Eric, you’re happy, right?”

Suddenly, Dele wasn’t sure. A new wave of anxiety washed through him; what if he was as delusional about their relationship as he was about his own health?

The next second, an arm wrapped around his shoulders, a familiar weight encompassing him tightly.

“Shhhhhh, yes, Delboy, I’m sorry, of course I am. I’m the happiest with you.”

“Then what is it? What are you talking about?” Dele was scared of how broken he sounded, begging Eric to make some sense of this entire situation.

The serious tone didn’t fit Eric when he started to explain.

“I’m sorry you have to hide. I’m sorry you’re always ready for the deadly bullet, you’re always waiting for someone to notice, to write about us, to force us out. I’m sorry you’re constantly worried about consequences and never able to let go. It’s not healthy, Del, and I think- I think your body might be giving up on you just because of the stress and the weight you carry around, and I’m sorry that you feel like this just because you’re with me, it’s- it’s killing me to see you so anxious, I thought if I just sit back and let you do your little rituals, cover up as well as you can, with Ruby, and us being so far apart in public, maybe it would give you some peace of mind, but Del, it’s clearly not working, I’m so-“

“Shut up.”

“I’m so sorry, Dele, this is not-“

“She the hell up!” He finally lost his cool. “What the fuck, Eric. What the fuck.”

Eric tried to hug him closer, and Dele struggled in his hold a little, not willing to be tamed like this.

“I know you. I know how terrified you are, and I’m sorry it messes up with your football.”

After the emptiness filling his mind since the moment he heard the newest doctor’s verdict, the abundance of thoughts swirling in his mind now made Dele’s head spin.

“There’s so much wrong with what you just said, I can’t believe you. Eric, I’m not a fucking baby, I know what I’m doing! It’s my body! Don’t you think I would know if it just couldn’t take the stress?” Dele shook his head at the absurd. “And you – me – us, this, it’s not making me scared! It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and you’re trying to find something that’s wrong with it, and I don’t get it, I just don’t, what the-“

“Del.”

“You fucking martyr. Where did you take that from?” Dele asked, slightly irritated, slightly desperate to make him see. “Eric. Eric, don’t tell me how I feel. I love you, but you’re not always right, and you can tell me what’s inside my own head. I hate when people do this.”

It’s one of the things he hated the most.

“I didn’t mean to-“

“I worry, yes. I prefer to keep quiet about us, I try to cover it because it’s too important to be spoiled, okay? But if you think this makes me too stressed to play... Being with you makes me happy, truly happy, as I’ve never felt in my life. The stress is nothing compared to the love I feel.

“And do you think I would come out if I weren’t a footballer? I don’t know. It’s not football that makes me so scared. I’m just... Not ready yet, okay? I wouldn’t be, even if I didn’t play. But it’s not eating me alive. I’m okay with myself. I love you, and I’m okay with it.”

Eric stared at him with guilty expression.

“I’m just- Maybe I just don’t have the body to- to play professionally, maybe-“ The sob escaping his throat wouldn’t let him finish. He fought through it. “Maybe it’s a sign that it’s not for me.”

Eric finally closed the gap between them and brought Dele harshly into his chest.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I love you too, you know what you’re doing, of course. Dele. Del. It’s going to be okay.” There was a hand in Dele’s hair and finally, finally he just let go, weeks of longing, and tiredness, and worry and then disappointment escaping him in a flood of tears. “Shhh. I’m an idiot. But I love you. I’m your idiot.”

Dele tried to catch his breath, and when he managed, he only confirmed it.

“You are. The most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard, Eric.” Dele commented, still in pained whisper. “I haven’t hurt my hamstring while hiding in the closet. Do you even hear yourself...”

Dogs barked somewhere in the distance, and the smell of the evening, and Eric, and tears that has been finally spilled and somehow allowed him to get rid of all his chocking emotions made him even more exhausted and desperate for relief.

“It’s not it, but- I don’t know what’s going on with me. Eric. Please help me find out. please, I just want to play,” he mumbled into the wet t-shirt.

“You’re going to be okay,” he heard in answer, finally in a tone he recognised, and it was a promise and a wishful thinking in one.

“I’m so tired.”

“I know. I know. And I know it’s not tiredness that can be helped by sleep, but let’s try anyway, okay? You’ll feel better, I swear. It’s late. Tomorrow is another day. Come on. I can’t carry you, but between us we’ve got three functional legs, one appendix and no hernia, we’ll make it to bed somehow. Come on, Delboy. Come with me.”

And he did. There was nothing else to do for him, just walk step by step with Eric, hoping that one day, they’d also have a bit more luck between them.

**Author's Note:**

> am i burned out, or what  
and yet I've posted this, I like to torture myself  
[dieretmoi.tumblr.com](http://www.dieretmoi.tumblr.com)


End file.
